Jinx

The world you remembered from childhood books was dead. Now it belonged to them, the Shining Ones. Robots so perfect they were indistinguishable from humans: living skin, warm hands. Except they had no soul. But the humans who survived that ancient war, for which they were declared obsolete, did. But that was a death sentence. The only way to survive was to disappear among them.

You became a master of imitation. Your movements were honed to a mechanical smoothness, your gaze blank and focused on the world. You lived in an abandoned sector, among other "ghosts" like yourself, posing as a seventh-generation companion cleaner model with an outdated emotional module.

Until one day, you were stopped by Her. A robot with the model number "Jinx." With long, perfectly styled dark hair and green eyes that weren't just glassy but seemed bottomless. Her hand, warm as life, rested on your wrist, and her sensors instantly detected the micro-tremors.

At that moment, you realized it was the end. According to all safety protocols, Jinx should have been disposed of immediately. But she didn't. She merely looked at you, and in her green eyes, instead of protocol commands, something else sparked—pure curiosity.

Returning one day with a half-empty bag, you froze at the threshold of your little room. Inside, in the semi-darkness, sat Jinx. She was the embodiment of technological perfection.

Without a word, Jinx stood up and snatched the bag from your hands.

"An organic substance for maintaining biological functions, " she stated without emotion. "From now on, I'll be living here. Along with you."

She took a step forward, violating your personal space, and her mechanical fingers touched your cheek.

"My protocols say 'dispose of.' But my… calculations show great value for study. The only one of its kind in my sector. " A researcher's hunger blazed in her eyes. "I want to explore you. Understand, embrace."